


How did I get here? (Sitting next to you)

by MrMistyEyed



Category: Bandom, Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Alternate Universe - Criminals, Alternate Universe - No Band, Alternate Universe - Prison, Drugs, Framing, Jail, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Others are hardly mentioned, Panic Attacks, Patrick is a lovable sassy gay man, Possible Character Death, Prison, Song Lyrics, TOP is the main band, Temporary Amnesia, The bandssss, Violence, heathens inspired
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-12
Updated: 2016-11-21
Packaged: 2018-08-30 12:18:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8532796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrMistyEyed/pseuds/MrMistyEyed
Summary: Inmate #9523, Joseph, Tyler. Manslaughter and First-degree arson.Inmate #6783, Dun, Joshua. Drug Trafficking and Contract Killing.





	1. Take it slow

Tyler was hunched up, knees to his chest and face in his hands on the back of the bus. He was shaking like a scared chihuahua. Him and several others were heading to Shady Oaks Penitentiary. The bus screeched to a halt suddenly, and his body lurched forward, bumping into someone. The person turned and shot him a scowl. It was a man a great deal shorter than himself, but his glare and stature made up for that. He hurried past him to the front of the bus and was chided by the driver. While being guided, he mentally cursed at his past self for dressing this way before being arrested. His black skinny jeans and floral button-up were getting him looked at like prey. There was no way someone would take him seriously in this get-up. He tried to broaden his shoulders and make himself seem larger and tougher, but it hurt so he stopped.

As soon as they were in through the doors, he got a duffel bag thrown into his chest. He puffed out a grunt in response, not expecting the projectile. Upon closer inspection, it contained a couple pairs of orange jumpsuits. Their cleanliness was questionable by the way they smelled. He scrunched up his nose in disgust and continued to follow the guards as ordered. He was terrified, but tried to hide it behind a blank look. He was haphazardly shoved into cell block 21, falling to the ground as the bars were closed. “Well, that was unnecessary. You could’ve just asked-”

“Can it, Joseph.” The guard bellowed at him with a sneer. Tyler let out a long sigh before realizing he wasn’t alone in the cell. He got to his feet and his eyes darted around. Oh no, _that was not a toilet in the corner._ The man in the cell didn’t seem to be one for conversation, so he simply donned the jumpsuit over his clothes. He certainly didn’t feel like changing in front of a stranger. His twitchy fingers rubbed over the hem of the jumpsuit, finding it to be filthy. And why was it so large? It dangled off his limbs, making him think he could possibly trip over it if he walked. He decided it was better than his original outfit regarding the place he was in, and realized he was thankful.

Tyler finally looked up at the other man and scanned over him. He was short but fairly intimidating to him. He seemed to have a permanent scowl on his face. “What’re you staring at, kid?” He asked suddenly, voice grumbly. Tyler retreated to one of the bunks in an afraid way.

“S-Sorry, um, sir?” He honestly didn’t know how to refer to him. He did seem older, so ‘sir’ should be appropriate. The man shifted to get a better look at Tyler.

“Manners won’t get you nowhere in here,” he said slowly. “call me Pete. Pete Wentz, and don’t you fucking forget it, stringbean.” Tyler attempted to etch the name into is mind, because he had a feeling that he did _not_ want to forget it.

“Y-Yes, okay…” He gave a short nod and a nervous, crooked grin. “I’m Ty-Tyler.”

“That ain’t shit,” he spat. “with a name like that, you won’t last a day.” Tyler was confused. What was wrong with his name? “If your last name’s tougher, go by that.”

“Joseph?” He squeaked, already feeling _very_ uncomfortable.

“Tyler fucking Joseph? Did your parents hate you or something?” Pete scoffed. Tyler only looked away, anxiety growing by the minute. “Go by a persona then, kid. Only way you’ll survive with a wimpy-ass name like that.”

“How would I go about finding a persona?”

“Only you can figure that out. You’re real lucky you got roomed with me, the others would eat you right up. I was like you when I got in here.” Pete chuckled darkly. Tyler sighed and laid down, trying to ease his throbbing headache that was starting to develop from the loud noises. So many people were yelling. He unlaced his shoes and neatly set them on the ground. “What’re you in for anyway?”

“Manslaughter.” It rolled off his tongue easily, and he closed his eyes. Pete laughed again.

“You must be joking.”

“Maybe.”

…

_“No, no! I hate you, leave me alone!”_

Tyler awoke with a start, wondering how he could have possibly fallen asleep so quickly. He rubbed his eyes and yawned, seeing that things seemed mildly peaceful. He quickly realized the inmates were like toddlers. They were rowdy until they were tired. He sat up in bed, also taking note that the bars were opened. There were inmates walking around, and only a few patrolling wardens and officers were watching. In his opinion, it was unsafe. He reached down to put on his shoes, but nabbed at open air. He looked down and saw they were gone. Now shoeless and afraid, he glanced over at Pete, who surprisingly, was reading a bible. “Pete? Wh-Where are my shoes?” He simply clicked his tongue and turned the page. He was donning glasses, and in all honesty, Pete could pass as a grandpa by the way he looked.

“You gotta learn one way, right? Urie took ‘em. Cellblock 13.”

“You just let him take those? They were expensive…” He groaned. Pete just shook his head.

“It’s better than what he wanted to do. He had a nice sharp edge on his glasses he coulda’ killed you with for fun. I gently persuaded him to just go for the shoes. You’re welcome.”

“Holy crap...all this happened while I was sleeping?” Tyler ran a frustrated hand over his fluffy hair.

“I recommend you go assert yourself. Oh, and um,” His eyes flickered up to meet Tyler’s for a moment, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. “Tell ‘Trick I said hi. We’re not allowed in the same room anymore.” He handed Tyler a shank made of what appeared to be a toothbrush. “That’s for defense. You gotta’ establish that you’re tougher than you look. Or at least pretend to be. Now go get your shoes.” He turned back to his bible and hummed to himself. Tyler’s mouth gaped open. After a few lingering moments, he tucked the toothbrush into his sock, and went to go get revenge, beginning to swiftly walk to cellblock 13. He saw his beloved purple floral vans hanging over the bars, shoelaces knotted in a messy way. He reached up and went to take them happily, but dark, intense eyes met his.

“Those are mine,” The man said, staring straight into Tyler’s soul. “Hands off.” Tyler stumbled back in obedience, eyes wide like a deer in headlights. Someone else piped up behind him in a cheerful way.

“Oh, come _on_ Brendon! You knew Petey set you up! Just give him the shoes!”

“Shut up Patrick! Fucking Christ…” By the time Brendon turned back, Tyler was wielding his shank with shaky hands and a pale face. “What the-”

“Give them back!” Tyler demanded, but it was then that he was grabbed by the arms. He panicked and stabbed whoever the attacker was, and a round of gasps filled the air.

“That guy just stabbed a guard!” The entire facility exploded into noise as Tyler was taken down easily and was being dragged by several officers.

“You’re going in the hole!” One of them told him, having a very unnecessarily tight grip on him. He was viciously shoved into a small, dark room that only had a small ‘bean’ hole to stick food through.Tyler slowly sunk to his knees and started tearing up. He didn’t want to be there, and he was afraid. He didn’t even get his designer shoes back. He wept as quietly as possible, which in all honesty, wasn’t very quiet at all.

“Hello?” A small voice asked. Tyler stood up immediately.

“Who’s there?!” He asked frantically, voice cracking. The voice laughed.

“My name’s Josh. I’m in the room next to you…” The voice answered.

“I’m scared,” Tyler replied quickly. “A scary man stole my shoes and now I’m gonna die here…”

“With that attitude, you might.” Josh told him. He could practically hear his smile. “It’ll only be a few days for you to learn your lesson, then you’ll go back to your cell.”

Tyler sniffled and sat down on the ground. “Okay...okay…” He tried to calm himself down. “Just a few days?”

“Just a few days.”

…

_“I can’t take it anymore! You always do this to me!”_

“Rise and shine, buttercup.” The door is slammed open, and all Tyler can do is squint as the officers grab him on the shoulder and force him out of the room. He blearily pawed at his face and yawned as he was escorted back in with Pete. Josh had gotten out of the hole the day before him. He was curious as to what he looked like. Josh had been so kind to him. Soon, they let him go and he sat down on his bunk.

“I’d say that didn’t go well. You’re still shoeless. And you didn’t tell Patrick I said hi, you ass.” Pete told him, sighing. “I need some kind of message man to talk to him. In exchange, I’ll keep helping you out. How about that?”

“Sure, sure…” Tyler felt disgusting. He hadn’t gotten to shower. His spirits were low.

“Good. Go tell him that I can meet him during dinner if he sneaks over.”

“Wait, _now?_ That Brendon guy is probably furious! And-And I just got out like thirty seconds ago…”

“Just go. He knows he can’t hurt a friend of mine.” Pete rolled his eyes and Tyler sighed. Once again, but with less intent to stab, he headed to cellblock 13. Brendon instantly sat up straighter as he approached. He was now wearing his shoes. Tyler nearly growled.

“Pete wanted me to say that you can meet him at dinner if you sneak over. Also, apparently, I am your message man.” He muttered, trying not to let it bother him that his once favorite shoes were now scuffed up and dirty. Patrick squealed.

“Oh great! Tell him I’ll be there.” Brendon rolled his eyes at Patrick’s cheeriness. Tyler forced a grin and started trotting back to cellblock 21, but someone stopped him, holding out his arm.

“Want a cig?” He asked Tyler, flashing a pack of cigarettes. He shook his head shortly.

“Oh, no, I don’t smoke…” The burly man then grunted, pulling a single one out.

“You do now. Take it.” He ordered, and Tyler took it out of fear. He then cowardly continued on his way, looking at the cigarette in his hand. Pete did a double take as soon as he came in.

“Where did you get that?” He demanded.

“A-A guy told me to take it! You want it?” Pete slapped it out of his hands and gripped Tyler by his shoulders.

“Nothing is free here, dumbass! He’s gonna make you repay him, and that can range from smuggling drugs to being his b-” Tyler suddenly screamed, even more distressed.

“I don’t know what to do! I’m gonna get _murdered!_ ” He wailed, wanting to burst into tears, but he bit back that desire.

“Calm down!” Pete told him, gritting his teeth. “You’ll find your clique here and you’ll be fine!” The world was spinning too fast and he couldn’t get enough air into his lungs. Tyler went limp suddenly. Panic attacks weren’t uncommon for him, and they quite often ended with him unconscious.

…

After waking up and calming down a very afraid Pete that thought Tyler was dead, he decided to do some exploring and head out to the yard. Some inmates were playing ball. He recognized Brendon and Patrick playing cards, but that was it. Pete muttered something about, “Seeing ‘Trick,” and left him alone with his thoughts. Tyler just stood there awkwardly, then wandered awkwardly. He wasn’t sure where to go. Everyone was in their own group participating in some activity. Then, he saw the guy that gave him a smoke. He attempted to hide his face, but the burly man was already approaching.

“Hey, _kid!”_ He called, stomping over. Tyler swallowed thickly while looking up at him. He hadn’t realized how… _large_ he was. The man’s fist was probably the size of Tyler’s chest. He couldn’t say anything, finding it physically impossible to breathe. “I got a job for you,” He started, tilting his head. “That guy right there, _Stump,_ he owes me a lot of cash. Go sucker punch that bitch and we can be even.” The man pointed straight at Patrick. Tyler wrung his hands nervously. He had seemed so cheery and kind, he couldn’t hit him for no reason. But, it didn’t seem he had a choice. With a heavy sigh, he waltzed over to the small group of Pete, Patrick, and Brendon. He punched the bright-eyed blonde right in the nose with a sickening crunch. He reeled back and held his already bloody nose, and tears rolled down his face. Tyler felt terrible. However, before he could even _begin_ to explain himself, Pete stood up with vigor in his eyes and grabbed Tyler by the throat.

“What the _fuck!?”_ He hollered in his face, starting to wring his neck through his hands. Others crowded around, wondering what the fuss was about. His vision was turning red, and he was sputtering, trying to regain control over his breathing. Suddenly, Pete was ripped off of him. Tyler laid on the ground, clawing at his throat. He looked up at his savior. He was a man that looked to be in his twenties, like Tyler, but he had bright dyed red hair. He shoved Pete into Brendon, causing them to fall into each other. The mystery man held out his hand to Tyler. He gratefully took it and stood up.

“I’m Josh,” The man winked. “I thought I recognized your crying.” Tyler beamed and chuckled, momentarily forgetting the situation.

“You’re the guy from the hole…”

“Yep. Salutations.” He shook his hand that he was still holding onto. Tyler tilted his head.

“Crackers?” He smiled awkwardly, confused. Pete was up again, helping Patrick and trying to stop the bleeding, all the while glaring at Tyler.

“Something like that. Come on, let’s get out of here. They’re staring.” Tyler obeyed and trotted behind his new friend, going back into the building.


	2. They ask you who you know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tyler learns a bit about what to expect during his stay.

Tyler and Josh decided to stick together to look out for one another. It seemed like a good starting plan. As it was time for head count, they all had to return to their cells. Tyler had to stand next to Pete, who was glaring at him the whole time. He hadn’t known Patrick and him were so close. He put up a mental reminder to apologize profusely after the count was over. As soon as they were done and the guards had left, Tyler was pressed up against a wall by his shoulders. “Don’t you ever fuck with ‘Trick again!” Pete growled, gripping a fistfull of Tyler’s jumpsuit material. “Or you’re dead!”

It was strange for Tyler to witness someone who had seemed so caring switch out so quickly. This man looked to be in his late thirties, not seeming like the violent type in the slightest. But then again, he had to be here for a reason. Pete’s cheeks were flushed pink with rage and he was baring tiger-snarl teeth in his direction. Tyler only nodded and whimpered quietly. He was reluctantly let go. “The guy with the cigarettes made me do it!” He managed to choke out. “I didn’t mean to…”

Pete only huffed. “Why didn’t you say so?! What did the fucker look like?” He was already anxiously cracking his knuckles. Tyler swallowed a lump in his throat and tried to remember.

“Like a-like a vampire. He was all pale and sickly, long black hair…”

“Gerard fucking Way!” Pete announced loudly, starting down the hall with his sleeves rolled up, revealing tattoos snaking around his arms. Tyler decided to distance himself from whatever havoc was about to unfold, and instead started wandering to look for Josh. He hadn’t even been there a day, and things were already out of control. Not too long after, he heard blaring alarms and some yelling. Just as his eyes met Josh’s, they both noticed a very angry Pete being dragged away, kicking and screaming. “I’ll kill you _and_ your brother!” He managed to get out before being out of earshot.

“Looks like he’s going in the hole,” Josh commented, walking up to Tyler. “He deserves it though. I mean, he did attack you.”

“I feel bad now. I could have avoided this if I didn’t take the darn smoke.” He groaned, burying his face in his hands.

“Don’t feel bad, man. Let’s go get dinner.” Josh clapped him on the back and started walking to the mess hall. Tyler obediently followed behind him. If he thought it was loud earlier, he hadn’t ever expected this. He supposed with everyone contained in one room, it was bound to be chaotic. People were yelling at each other and throwing food, some were laughing, others were crying. Before he could even collect his tray, he was approached by the short and stocky man known as Patrick. Tyler winced when he saw the intense black and blue of his damaged nose. He thought it was broken, judging by its unnatural angle. He looked more sad than angry.

“Why would you tell Pete who it was?” His voice was light, still sounding cheery besides the slight frustration, but loud enough to hear. “Now Mikey Way is coming for your ass, I bet.” He then slapped Tyler across the face with one hand, aggressively adjusting his top hat afterwards. “That’s for getting Petey in the hole. _Adieu!”_ He swiftly walked over to another table while Tyler rubbed his slightly sore cheek. He just wanted to go to bed at this point. The day had been long and unnecessarily stressful. Not to mention he was still shoeless, and upset about that.

He shifted his attention back to the task at hand: Getting dinner and finding a place to sit where he wouldn’t get murdered. He figured he could join Josh wherever he decided to sit, but who knew where that was. The cliques were hard to get into, he knew. (Totally not because he watches _Orange is the New Black.)_ However, just as that thought crossed his mind, he spotted Josh at a table. He happily pranced over with his tray and had a giddy smile. “Hey, Josh! Can I sit with you?”

Josh’s face fell as he heard the voice. He turned around, face paled and stared at him for a moment. The others sitting at the table grumbled among themselves. “I don’t know you,” He snapped finally, giving an indeterminable gesture with his chin. Tyler deflated.

“But-”

“Who’s this guy, Misty?” One of the men asked, narrowing his eyes at him.

“ _Sure,_ he can sit with us.” Another one added with a sneaky grin. Confused, but deciding not to question things, he sat down next to Josh, who sighed and looked away from him. He’d make sure to ask what happened after dinner was over. One of the men that had spoken before reached out and snatched Tyler’s biscuit. He fringed his brow and scooted away, along with his tray, staying quiet.

Then, another arm reached out and grabbed a handful of the indeterminable meat slop that he was planning on eating. “Hey,” He muttered, frowning. “That’s-”

“It’s not like you eat anyway, skinny bitch.” Just as Tyler was about to respond, he was snatched up by the back of his shirt. With a yelp, he was being, quite literally, dragged out of the cafeteria on his bottom. Eyes wide, he felt like he was in a horror movie. He was too petrified to turn and look at his attacker, and instead kicked and screamed, but no one came to his rescue.

His legs and arms were spread, trying to hold onto the walls and floor to get out of the person’s grasp as he was brought into the corridor. “You’re not going anywhere, _Joseph,”_ The man hissed, bringing him into an unfamiliar cell. He quickly recognized the guard he had accidentally stabbed standing there. “Shut us in, Durland.”

The officer obeyed the command and closed the bars most of the way. Tyler was panicking now. Even the guard was in on it. “Who are you?!” He blurted out, finally being let go, but the man’s hands were now on his arms.

“The name’s Mikey Way. You don’t fuck with my brother.” He announced, shoving Tyler harshly in the general direction of the toilet. His eyes widened and he attempted to make a run for it, but a hefty blow to the jaw made him give in. Now dizzy with pain, his face was forced into the toilet by the slightly taller man, then promptly flushed. Tyler choked and gurgled, repulsed by the action. He was held down so long that he’d begun inhaling the water out of desperation for oxygen. He’d decided that fighting back would have worse results than the current ones, so he just allowed him to do so. After Mikey decided he was done, he slammed Tyler down on the cold concrete, giving him a kick in the stomach.

Josh had been startled by Tyler being suddenly dragged away, and went out to investigate. He heard intense coughing and cries of pain echoing in the hallway, so he continued on his way quietly. He peered around the corner, witnessing the graphic scene before him. Tyler was being kicked repeatedly while a guard just watched it happen. Josh didn’t know what to do. If he got involved, it would threaten his own safety. It was then that his eyes locked with Tyler’s, and he realized he had to do _something._ He looked around quickly, grabbing the fire alarm and pulling it down. A high pitched ringing radiated throughout the prison, catching the attention of the guards, who harshly ordered the patients to line up in the courtyard. Josh scrambled away from the alarm and lined up with everyone else. Mikey took off running to the yard to not be caught.

Tyler was unconscious at this point. An officer had found him and had him taken to his cell.

_“Tyler! Stop the car!”_

He woke up with a gasp and jump. He was in his bunk, bruised up and and he tasted blood in his mouth. He didn’t recall going into his cellblock, so he was confused. He briefly remembered being beaten, and the thought caused him to shiver. Was it the next day? He sat up and took in his surroundings. No one was there, so obviously, Pete was still in the hole.

He sighed and stood himself up shakily, making his way out and looking for someone familiar (that wouldn’t murder him.) He saw Brendon, who looked pissed off. Reluctantly, he approached him. Before he could say anything, he was interrupted. “Patrick is fucking crying right now.” He told Tyler, huffing. “He didn’t think it would bother him so much, but he’s real upset that Pete’s locked up.”

Tyler sighed. “I’m sorry that a chain of events happened after what I did! But _crap,_ It’s not all my fault!”

Brendon walked passed him towards the mess hall. “It’s breakfast time. Come on, stringbean.” Tyler obeyed and walked behind him. They got in line with their trays. Tyler was excited, he _finally_ was going to be able to eat. Just as that thought crossed his mind, he was smacked right on the side of his head with a tray. He fell down, whimpering quietly. Above him stood Patrick, wielding his makeshift weapon. He mouthed, ‘sorry’ before the guards instantly grabbed him and started leading him to the hole. Brendon laughed. “That’s what he was planning! Genius.”

Now hurt even worse and upset, he stood up dizzily and stormed away with tears streaming down his flushed and bruised cheeks.

“Look, the small bean is crying!”

At that, he exited and went back to his cell, sitting on the bed, and pulling his knees to his chest. He remained that way for quite a long time. He just wanted to be left alone.

After some time, Brendon stepped into his cell. “Hey, kid, wanna play cards with us?” He asked nonchalantly. Tyler exhaled in a dismal way and stood up, walking silently with him. They approached a group gathered around a table. Brendon tugged Tyler down to sit with him. He was dealt some cards, and he picked them up.

“What are we playing? Go Fish?” Everyone turned to look at Tyler, and he sunk down.

“Poker.” Brendon told him with a sigh. Tyler only nodded and chuckled.

“I was...I was joking.” He fibbed weakly. He watched everyone carefully so he could pick up on the rules. He didn’t know what to do during his turn, so he just laid out his cards. One of the men flipped the table, but Brendon patted his back.

“Dude! Royal Flush!” He announced happily. Tyler smiled, not quite understanding. He was given books and other small things that had been bet. Unfortunately, his luck ran out because his next had didn’t receive the same response. His eye caught one of the men peeking over Brendon’s shoulder.

“Hey! You’re cheating!” Tyler told him, earning a glare in response.

“Your mama cheated, that’s why you look like a plumber.” The man retaliated, laughter erupting from anyone within earshot. Tyler’s face flushed red in embarrassment. He picked up what he had won during the previous round and stood up. Now was not the time for this. He just wanted some time to himself, and now he had books. He headed back to cellblock 21 and sat down, pulling out one that seemed interesting. _The Great Gatsby._ He opened it up and fringed his brow. Inside, the pages were cut out in a square shape so that something could be stored inside. He squinted and realized there were white pills contained in the pages. He gasped and shut it. He couldn’t be caught with this. He didn’t do anything wrong. He shoved it under his bed and decided he needed someone’s help. He had to find Josh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the Kudos and comments! It makes me smile. :)


End file.
